


Dressing Room

by Thefaultinobsessiveshipping



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Teenlock, balletlock, rugbyjohn, tattoolock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-15 23:32:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2247498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thefaultinobsessiveshipping/pseuds/Thefaultinobsessiveshipping





	Dressing Room

There was only half an hour to go before the biggest ballet performance of Sherlock’s life. Broadway talent scouts were in the audience just to watch him; he was being considered for a part in an upcoming show. John was with him backstage, there for moral support. For a while he was doing quite well at keeping Sherlock’s nerves down, but it got increasingly harder for John to think as Sherlock unbuttoned his too-tight shirt and let it fall to the fall to the floor. He blended tattoo concealer of the works of art that adorned his shoulders and chest, his skin turning alabaster in place of it’s usual array of colors.  
“John, I can’t reach.” Sherlock gestured to the tattoo on his back.  
“You want me to--” Sherlock nodded and handed the concealer to John. He was a bit caught off guard at Sherlock’s request. The two of them left everything desperately unspoken, as usual. By now, they were almost sure that the other felt the same, but they were too afraid of screwing things up to address it. Their relationship danced a very thin line between friendship and dating, so rubbing something into Sherlock’s bare skin definitely fell into a very grey area. Nevertheless, John squirted some of the make up into his hand and began covering the tattoo.  
“So what do you normally do when I’m not here to cover this up for you?”  
“I’ve never had to cover it before.” John looked at him quizzically, and Sherlock went a bit pink. “None of the outfits I’ve worn previously have been nearly as... revealing.”  
“Oh,” John’s cheeks flushed. Neither knew what to say, and the silence grew quickly awkward.. “So, are you nervous for tonight?”  
“No... well, I am--just a bit.” Sherlock sighed. “What if I screw up?”  
“Oh please. You’ve never screwed up in your life. You’re bloody brilliant.” He handed Sherlock back the concealer. “Really, you’ll be fine. Promise.” Without thinking, John got on his tip toes and kissed Sherlock on the cheek. Sherlock’s eyes went wide, and John couldn’t possibly have turned a brighter red.  
“I, um. I should probably get to my seat. Break a leg. Well, I mean, don’t really. It’s just an expression. Of course, you already know that so, um. I’m just gonna shut up.” John stuttered as he began walking backwards and tripping over the garbage bin directly behind him. There was a loud bang as his wrist hit the trash can’s metal rim.  
Sherlock sat on the ground next to John and quickly examined the injury, before bringing the inside of John’s wrist to his lips.  
“Just a bruise. It may take a while to go away if you hit it on anything in the next few days, but likely it will be healed well before your next rugby match. Now shoo. I need to get dressed.” Sherlock impatiently waved John away. “Out."


End file.
